Crusade of Rome
by TheWesternRadiation
Summary: In an alternate world 400 years in the future, the world we know is gone. Gaia had taken over Olympus, and ordered mass genocides of mortals across the planet. Only through the gods' last show of power were they able to reincarnate Hercules to rescue them so that they may cast Gaia back into Tartarus. But now, war brews between the Second Empire of Rome and the Kingdom of Greece.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The world you and I know is gone. Four hundred years in the future, there are only three nations throughout the world. The Romans, who have dominated and unquestioned control over the western half of North America and Canada, with borders stretching into what was Mexico. The Emperor Gallus Vesnius Ordius is cresting on his seventy second year, and is beginning to relinquish control of the Second Empire of Rome to his son, Marcus Atrius Ordius, the future emperor. The borders of Rome are swelling and bulging with almighty legions ready to burst out and attack whomever may challenge them.

The Greeks, who have borders stretching as far north as Greenland, and as far south as the Caribbean, are a more democratic-oriented people. Though they have a king, Diomedes II, he acts more as a presidential figure, similar to the United States in days long gone. Their military is less extensive and massive, though they are greater willed to achieve victory, by any means necessary to preserve their way of life. It is common for heroes to arise from the Greek phalanxes, giving an inspiring vision to those soldiers whose morale dwindles. Time will tell what the two nations will do to each other in war.

Lastly, there are the hundreds of millions of mortals left alive after the Great Purge of Gaia about four hundred years ago. Those that survived the mass genocide of Humans could not comprehend what they saw with mortal minds; they were driven insane by the divine images of gods and giants and titans roaming the Earth. They meander across the barren wilderness, having no mind to give them humanity. They are no more than chaotic savages, angry that they lost their way of life, and confused as to how it happened. They commonly raid the civilized nations of the Greeks and Romans alike, though they prove to be easy to defeat on the battlefield, as they are armed with nothing more than clubs and chunks of scavenged armor from previous battles with the Greeks and Romans.

Gaia had arisen, no heroes powerful enough were alive to stop her wrath; she woke the giants, she spilled the blood of strong demigods, of brave demigods, and then she marched her children upon Olympus where the gods lost power in battle. For one hundred and fifty years, the gods were trapped in cages, forced to watch as the giants made vicious mockery of their thrones. That is, until the great hero Heracles was arisen from the dead by a last effort from the gods, pooling their last amounts of power into his soul, giving him a mortal form once more.

Hercules used the insane masses of mortals against Gaia, using them as distractions while he tore open the cages of the gods one by one. Gaia was toppled from her wrongfully taken throne, and just as Ouranos was eons ago, was chopped into thousands of tiny pieces by the trident of Poseidon and the master bolt of Zeus, cast into Tartarus to remain there for eons more.

The Greeks and Romans lead conquests to rid the world of the mortals, as they are not worth saving anymore; they do not wish to be saved either. The most recent successful conquest by the Greek general Perdix has squeezed the savages out from between their nations like a vice, connecting their borders along a 1,500 mile long line. The Romans see this as an act of war, and plan to strike just as the Greeks are recovering from a mighty conquering. Neither side will back down; the fate of the world rests with the victor of the war that will rage. For infinite generations will the world remember the day the war started…


	2. Forthcomings

**Chapter 1** : Forthcomings

"Why? What good could come of this?", one young man asked of another, much older elder. The old man sighed heavily, looking out over the city he worked so hard to erect, the sunset cascading golden light from below the horizon over his creation, the mountains' shadows reaching the city limits from the distance. He could not give an answer; not when war so costly was looming in front of his empire.

"It is the rule of Rome, my son. Bring down your foe before the same can be done to you. The Greeks have taken too much territory from the barbarians. They share borders with us, now, Marcus. They've found a door for an invasion. I, in the best interests of the people of New Rome, cannot allow this risk to remain. If you are to take the scepter from my hand one day, you _must_ understand what it means be Emperor." Marcus was quiet in comprehension. He looked below from the estate's balcony, down at the subjects of New Rome that he would one day rule over. The citizens of a republic, so ignorant of just how little their voice truly matters. So ignorant to impending dangers. He would give anything to live a blissful life such as theirs.

"Father, who is to say the Greeks have any such plans as you say they have? No signs from Mars have manifested, the priests have said so themselves. You find it in your best interests to protect Rome, as do I. But there are other ways of ensuring peace. I beg of you, do not let ends justify the means. It would be the route of your father-"

"Do not presume to lecture me!", Marcus flinched imperceptibly. Such an outburst would not be expected from one of an age as his father.

"My father sought wealth through greed and corruption! Now I see corruption comes not from the inside, but rather the outside. The Greeks are to corrupt our subjects with their democratic ways, the boy-lovers! Time will tell if their military is as cunning as their tongues. Diplomacy is of the past, now, Marcus. I bring in diplomacy of might. Flex the vast legions of Rome, and their pathetic hoplite phalanxes will wet the ground with piss! We'll push their borders back to New Athens, no further. I will let the citizens of their capital mourn the loss of tens of thousands of their brothers as their world crumbles around them, then offer them a better life as a citizen of the Second Roman Empire. The last Greeks will willingly come to our side, fully revoking the existence of their pathetic paganist society! The gods will only have one form then, a more powerful form. They will recognize me as the grand marshal of the new world order of Rome, granting me their boon worthy of the court of gods."

Marcus was dumbstruck. His father was succumbing to madness. He was the only one who could convince the old man to do anything, and now he could see he was powerless to stop what his father was to set in motion. He could only stand by and watch.

"And when I die, my son, it will all become yours. The power, the responsibility. Oh, my son, the _power_. No one will dare utter the name Marcus Atrius Ordius for fear of capital punishment! The world will be yours. With mortals dwindling in existence, this world will belong to the demigods of Rome. The Greeks will never know glory. And you, Marcus, will be my right hand in this greatest of crusades. You will be my great general, leading the legions of loyal soldiers into battle against our foes."

"Father, I've hardly any experience in battlefield tactics." Marcus said. He worried what would become of the men.

"It matters not! My son, you have something that few other generals have: a _powerful_ presence. The soldiers look up to you. You have led them before successfully against the barbaric mortals to the north, and you will continue to do so against the Greeks. They will be more of a challenge than the chaotic savages, but you will overcome them. I have faith in you."

Marcus wanted so to refuse the offer, but he could hear the tone in his deranged father's voice; there was no choice here. He would lead his armies, or he would be executed. Or worse; exiled. His honor was at stake, and he could not refuse the chance to make Rome proud.

"I will lead the armies, father. I will make you, and Rome, proud." The Emperor was delighted. A kind smile spread across his lips, and he took his son by the shoulders, turning him to face the capital of their Empire.

"You are looking at the future capital of the world, my general. I relinquish all military control to you. No operations are to be declared, no rations delivered, no legions marched, without first you approving or giving the order. You will receive the ceremonial full plate of the Great General of Rome, and my sword. Pick any horse you like throughout the land, and it shall be yours. Prepare for war, my son. I say we have only a week at most to plan." Marcus watched the Emperor shuffle into his grand bedroom, heard him call for a maid to draw him a bath. Once again, Marcus took a glance outward at New Rome, a grand city that had been the outcome of generations of turmoil and suffering by the hands of Roman demigods. His greatest fear wasn't losing men; it was losing Rome to the Greeks. He wouldn't let that happen by oath of his life.

He stood there awhile longer, letting the warm summer breeze brush past his features. It wasn't until near midnight that he returned to his grand bedroom, his wife, Aurelia, laying on the bed with her breasts exposed, waiting to receive him. With no emotion, he took her there, glad for the relieving feeling that signaled he was done. He lay next to her, watching the purple silk curtains ripple in the night breeze, the slight whistle crooning him to sleep.


	3. Orders of Ordius

**Chapter 2** : Orders of Ordius

"Only two days until we march, get those catapults roped up!", Marcus shouted at the siege workers, "Your training run is in 10 minutes; the Colosseum!" He walked down the main cobblestone road of the military district of Rome, overseeing the progress of the auxiliary forces: the accurate roman catapults, the archer regiments, and the units that Marcus would personally lead, the mighty roman cataphracts.

"Get the horses' barter prepared! Get them accustomed to the weight early or you'll regret it later!"

"Yes, my lord." War was not something you walk into with a nonchalant walk and a good feeling of victory in mind; you _had_ to plan. Planning is the victor's tool; plan for every contingency, for every possible error or victory, and what to do and where to go afterwards. Marcus was confident in their first assault on the Greeks. How were they to plan if they were clueless as to was about to happen? They would blitz into their borders, catching them by surprise, and continue to push fast and nonstop. If you let up your assault, you give them breathing room. When they have breathing room, they have time to plan and prepare.

 _Planning is a victor's tool, a tool to be used only by the victor_ , Marcus thought. He realized someone was trying to speak to him.

"My lord? The archers complain of their lack of ammunition. They've only a quarter quiver each." Marcus sighed. Another problem he would personally have to deal with.

"Well, tell them not to miss." He would have to make a trip to the fletcher's later. He continued his rounds of inspection, taking note of what needed to be made before they moved out in two days. He would also need to order from the blacksmith and the mason. A common legionnaire approached him.

"My lord, the lieutenant asks for you. In the headquarters." The legionnaire escorted him. The headquarters was a polished marble and glass building, two stories tall and way too flashy. He always thought that if Rome were pillaged, the attackers would know right where to attack first. Without the headquarters, no battle plans are erected and no orders given. Marcus saw nothing wrong with using a simple tent and table for a headquarters.

The legionnaire led him into the building, and up to the second floor. Their footsteps were drowned out by the business of the headquarters staff. Men and women rushing around with papers requiring signatures from higher-ups, or to deliver personal messages. War wasn't just busy on the battlefield; behind every good army is a better working class that crafts the equation of war. Armor, weapons, tactics. They entered an oversized room with an equally large table diorama of the battle site. A large floor-to-ceiling window let in plenty of sunlight, while still giving an eye-attracting view of the lake just outside the forum. Lieutenant Aurelius was waiting to debrief him on the plan.

"Good day, my general. I trust inventory went well?"

"There's still too much to do in only two day's time. I fear we'll be forced to march unprepared." Marcus put his hands on the table, inspecting the locations of flags representing their units. They would be attacking a growing military outpost the greeks began building as soon as they took the land.

"As you know, we're first hitting their scouting base they use to watch our border movements. My scouts estimate their garrison is about two thousand men strong.", Aurelius began.

"A problem?"

"Not if we're bringing five thousand.", he cracked a smile, something not seen too often on a commander, "we'll be throwing traditional war rules out for this one. We won't give them time to march out and meet us. Some call it dishonorable, I call it efficient. Destroying this base will allow us to raze nearby settlements to the ground practically unopposed. I'll leave the decision to you as to whether or not we'll be taking prisoners."

"I believe we shall. We'll teach them that being a roman citizen is the superior option."

"I'll alert the captains. I don't suspect we'll need to bring the siege equipment, but with your permission I will requisition a unit of cataphracts to bring around the flank. The posterior walls of the base are reported to be undergoing construction. So for the meantime, this means they are weak to an assault from the rear. Taking this base out as soon as possible is essential. With the other attacks we'll be launching simultaneously, the greeks will react quickly. This base _will_ be reinforced." The Lieutenant paused. Marcus thought of the plan so far.

"The rear weakness is a large one, but I fear without the cataphracts where they need to be, we could lose a foothold in the north. Is this the largest reported base?"

"Yes, general. They've not had much time to build these outposts."

"Good. You may apply the cavalry to this fight, then. I will lead them personally."

"Is that wise, my lord? Should you fall-"

"I won't. This won't be the first charge I've ever led. I want the greeks to know I'm committed to what I do. It sends a very strong message, both to their troops and ours."

"As you will, my general. Are the types and quantities of foot soldiers acceptable?"

"Yes, they'll do.", Marcus paused, "How are the gunpowder-applied special weapons units coming along?" Aurelius wavered.

"My lord, they are extremely experimental, I don't think it wise to use them in battle just yet. The most recent test caused several men to become blind from back flashes." Marcus nodded slowly.

"Alright.", Marcus took the battle plan from the Lieutenant and signed it, "Have this sent to the ground marshal. He'll inform the captains. Now I have to make a trip to the industrial district. Our workers are apparently incompetent to make sufficient quantities."

"Take that as a good sign, my general. We have more men than they guessed we did. That means the greeks will underestimate us, as well."

"I wouldn't be so sure. Never underestimate, and you'll never be underestimated. I'll return if the plans need adapting." Marcus turned to leave.

"Divine speed, my lord. I'll see you after the battle."


End file.
